Sabbath Rest

It is Friday noon here in Qom; time for a sabbath rest. Most shops have closed down until sunset. People are heading to mosques for worship. A week ago David and Wally and I were worshiping with Armenian Christians in Tehran. Today we
are at home, reading, reflecting, being grateful. A week from today we will hope to go to Tehran again, and find the English speaking church which meets there once a month.

This past week has been full of relationships, learning and connecting. Our Farsi teacher comes to our apartment every day and with infinite good humor and patience teaches us words, writing, sounds. I could now visit with our upstairs neighbor-- who wants to be friends-- and name fruits and vegetables for her, or call out primary colors. Our Islamic studies professor meets us at the Imam Khomeini Institute once a week. He is serene, focused, welcoming as we dialogue together about the Quran, the Bible, what it is to hear the Word of God. ("The Word," he said in last week's lesson, "is the same Word that John calls 'the Logos' in the beginning of his gospel.")

Wally Shellenberger. helpful and patient friend, has gone home to Indiana yesterday-- after 10 days with us. Thank you, Wally! You helped us in 100 ways and we will miss having you here for lunch!

One day this past week, a car and driver arrived at our door. We had been waiting to go on a rural drive with Mr. Haghani,
our dear cleric friend and Director of International Affairs (and international students) at the Imam Khomeini Institute. Instead we heard, "The Ayatollah is waiting to see you now." I hastily donned by chador, David grabbed his notebook and off we went, to the office of Ayatollah Misbah, Director of the Institute. We were ushered into his office with the usual Iranian courtesy and thoughtfulness. The Ayatollah had eyes that were gentle, merry and appraising. He let a warm silence gather and then began his welcome. " I am so glad you're here. You will find it more difficult to live in the east than in the west,
but what you can learn among us will make up for it. " He searched our faces: tea was poured and fruit offered; I ventured one hand out to grasp my tea and prayed that my chador would stay on (it did). "I will pray for you," he said. "Welcome to Iran."

We (David, Wally and I ) drove with Mr.Haghani and a driver south and a bit west of Qom, towards the town of Kahak. Here in Iran shepherds still tend their flocks. One young man stood just at the edge of his flock, chatting with an old man holding a donkey by a rope. The sheep were carpetted in thick black wool. A mile more down the road a teenage boy sat on a straight backed chair under a tree - his flock both white and black and very wooly. Resevoirs and irrigation canals birthed groves of olives, pomegranates and sour cherries. The desert floor slowly rose up toward the Zagrob Mountains-- snow capped beauties before us. We lunched together in a restaurant composed of carpeted platforms. Climbing up, settling against pillows and drinking tea, we awaited lunch -- beautiful trout from the Caspian sea, rice with saffron, salads full of fresh produce, flatbread just baked and still warm.

Later in the week we travelled to the university town of Kashan, an hour an a half south of Qom. It is famous for its carpets,
elaborate and breathtaking old homes, and antiquity-- being continually inhabited for at least 4000 years. We met several professors (whom Wally knew) and were ushered into an English class. "Do you recognize this voice?" grinned the professor as he turned on a cassette player. It was a speech by President Bush. Oh yes, I do believe I recognize who that is. David and I introduced ourselves and fielded questions from students. "What do you think of the war in Iraq?" "Do you support the poilcies of your president?" "Do you belive in a Messiah who will come back at the end of history?" "Do you see any terrorists here? (snickers)" The hour was over too quickly and we promised each other another visit, and perhaps a formal lecture on Christian spirituality soon.

On to dinner at a professor's home. He and his wife and two children welcomed us with open hearts. A big, fat English copy of Harry Potter (#6) lay on the floor. They had recently had a sabbatical half year in England. "I read through the Gospel of Luke with a Christian neighbor," my new friend said. "It was so lovely. Excuse me now for just a moment, I have to pray."
More feasting on food, conversation, hopes, community together.

Yesterday (Thursday), the MCC initiated Ecumenical Peace Group came to Qom, lead by Ron Flaming. We were fetched by a driver who took us to the grand Quranic Library and then helped Davd and I practice our fruits and vegis in Farsi while we awaited the bus of North Americans. (Our conversational skills are a bit limited but we're willing to offer what we can--- pomegranate, orange, banana, potatoes...) The bus drove up-- obvious in its grand size. We waved to Ed Martin and called out as he and others crossed the road to us. What fun to see the group (15 or so) of peace activist Christians-- Mennonite,
Quaker, United Methodist, Episcopalian, Pax Christi, Sojourners, the National Council of Churches. "Linda, is that YOU?" said a familiar voice. It was friend and Friend Jessica from the Quaker UN Office in NYC-- we had last seen each other in Manhattan. She continued, "I knew that familiar voice as soon as I heard it. I can't believe you're here." (This group is here in Iran for a week, religious leaders working hard to de-escalate the rising tensions between Iran and the US. A PBS camera crew was along-- be watching for Bill Moyers' old show "NOW" which will carry clips of this delegation in the near future).

We later went as a group to the Hazrat-i-Ma'sumeh Shrine here, with its golden dome and twin minarets. It houses four Safavid shahs, two Qajar rulers and many officials of the Qajar court. Inside the main gate is a large courtyard full of people-- talking, praying, walking with little children and very old people. A group of young men walked rapidly by with a funeral bier at shoulder height, chanting in unison as they headed to the front gate. Intricate mosaics, archways, piles of rolled prayer rugs, large fountains, beautiful humanity with faces that were Chinese, Afghani, Persian, Arab...

We went back to the bus. A group of women in chadors with angry voices were in front. "Americans! What are THEY doing here?" Immediately the PBS camera crew got out, as well as several women. "We are peace church people. We oppose war in any context. Our hearts are broken over Iraq. We have deep regret for our country's policies and practices that have brought you such pain." Oh. The voices went down a decibel. Oh. "We are pilgrims from Iraq, from Babylon. If you are people of peace, we would like you to come and stay with us as our guests. You are welcome in Babylon." A middle aged woman and I held each others hands, heads bowed, then looking into each other's faces. I took off my earrings (that my dear friend Missy had given me years ago from New York) and put them into her hand. "We have," she said, "no electricty, no water, no gas for all these years of war. Why? Why? Why?"

Qom on a sunny Saturday

We spent two good days and nights in Tehran. What a mega-city! Other large cities we have taken taxis through (Buenos Aires, Managua, London) feel like a stroll in the suburbs compaired to the immensity of Tehran. The highlite of our time there was meeting members of the Armenian Christian community-- both orthodox and evangelical. We also know how to find and ride the Metro and buses (with lots of help from Wally).

On Friday morning we worshiped with the evangelical congregation and were warmly received into fellowship. As we were gathering for 10:30 worship, an old man came down the center aisle to find his seat. His hands were raised and he prayed gently all the way to his pew. A children's choir (11 lively boys and 2 smiling girls) sang several numbers. We were given a bi-lingual hymnal (Armenian/English) and sang along to "What a friend we have in Jesus", "Tell it to Jesus," "There is a place of quiet rest" -- just like home (except for the Armenian). This will be a good worshiping community for us as Christians. Our hotel was full of young adults for a Tai Kwan Do competition (from China, Kazakhstan, Russia) -- lots of energy and life.
In the morning, when the smog had not yet settled in, the Alborz Peaks-- gleaming with snow-- were clearly visible from the hotel.

Back here in Qom, we are beginning to settle in. On the bus ride back yesterday (2 hours for $1.25), three women in chadors sat right behind us-- a small child on a lap. A hand appeared through the seats and poked my shoulder. It was the middle aged grandmother. "Excuse me," she said, "do you speak Farsi?" No, sorry, I replied. One of her daughters said in very broken English "where are you from?" America.
At once a chorus of beaming smiles and "Welcome, welcome."

Here in Qom we continue to notice many wonderful things. Video games are readily avaiable-- including "Civil War" (US that is) and "Narnia". Valentines cards were offered in stores on the 14th. Fruits, vegis, and nuts are abundant and beautiful.

It is chadors that are my Waterloo. I must wear one in the Imam Khomeini Institute (where I am currently using this computer) -- an all male institution (except for me) and into shrines. I decided I would wear a chador for practice last Thursday, as David, Wally and I walked around Qom. It is a large semi-circle of black polyester (so it won't wrinkle) with a little bit of elastic to go around the head. One puts the elastic around one's head and then throws all the black yards of cloth backwards and voila-- one is a chadori woman. Theoretically.

My first try with the chador. I donned the elastic, tossed the cloth backwards. The whole 9 yards (maybe literally) landed on the floor behind me. I anchored it on my head more slowly and it seemed to stay. We walked down the street. I looked into a storefront window and caught a glimpse of myself. David said, "Well, the front of your chador is way down low and the back end is hiked up very high." Oh me. So, in the midst of other people (all the women in chadors and no one else seeming to have any problems), I jerked the chador forward. Better on the back end, but it made my headpiece crooked. I was looking through the world with my right eye (mostly), because my left had material over it-- material that shouldn't be over my face at all. I jerked the material to the right. Better, but I could feel the elastic head band slipping. If it lets go of my head, the whole chador is coming off again-- not backwards this time but sideways. I walked up onto a curb to get a better glimpse and nearly clipped a trash receptacle. The chador still looks odd. I slip it off (it's coming off again anyway) and fling it over my head in a new way. Good! It feels secure.

The city bus comes by and David and I jump on--me into the back with the women and David up front with the men. Railing separate us, but we can see each other. I look at the other women who are eying me with curiosity and amusement (and, I think, sympathy). At this point I look like a displaced Mother Superior who has had a bad
day-- rumpled and off center and dragging lots of black material on the left side.
I look at the other women's heads. Their elastic does't show on top but mine does.
I reach up and feel mine. Oh yes-- my chador is inside out and, I think, backwards.
An old woman stands firmly in front of me and pats my shoulder.

(I have, by the way, told this story to both the Armenian Christian women in Tehran and some Muslim women in Qom-- everybody gets a kick out of it). (:

On Monday we will begin Persian (Farsi)classes and on Wednesday we begin studying Islamic faith and practice. We continue to be surrounded by hospitality and kindness. Qom, in our first week, is a very friendly place. Hopefully our phone will be connected very soon & we can call and email from our apartment.

Settling in Qom

David and I arrived in Tehran with Wally Shellenberger (one of our MCC predecessors here in Qom) in the wee hours of Monday, 11 February. Our five hour flight from Amsterdam was flawless and friendly. Iranians on the KLM flight were so open and friendly-- plying us with their emails, phone numbers and invitations to visit.

Our flight full of people emptied into the Tehran terminal. Hundreds of people were queued up to pass through customs-- perhaps eight lines of forty people. Wally looked up at those waiting for passengers, smiled and waved. There was Mr. Hoghani, our mentor at the Imam Khomeini Center -- heading in our direction. We were taken out of the very long lines and taken to a very short (think 4 people in front of us instead of 40) line for diplomats and flight crew and ushered through with dispatch.
Following Mr.Haghani, a cleric with white turban and flowing cape, we felt very warmly welcomed and cared for. His ready smile and warm eyes (while handing our passports through each line) made our entry to Tehran easy.

Outside the terminal, our poor driver began the challenge of cramming large duffels of books into his taxi. I looked toward the terminal-- a short distance away.
A woman in full chador stood in front, awaiting a ride. Dirctly behind her, on the inside wall of the terminal, a huge tv projected a UNC basketball game.

By 5am we were settling into our lovely, two bedroom apartment in Qom. The neighborhood knows that the new "masihis" (Christians) have arrived, and have greeted us warmly. Little corner stores are bursting with lovely vegetables, fruits and nuts. An old man pushes a large cart down the street, calling out as he comes.
He is collecting old bread from homes, which he will sell for goat feed. Little "charity boxes" (looking like mail boxes) line the streets and people regularly drop money inside for the poor. Eyes are welcoming as we walk the streets
and get to know people.

Last night we dined on beautiful Persian carpets, pillows behind us, with friends working with the Imam Khomeini Institue for Research and Education (who are our supporting group here in Iran). Sumptuous fruit was our beginning, followed by rice with saffron, chicken cooked in walnut saunce with pomegranites, okra in tomato sauce, lamb, tea. Conversation betwen we Christians and Muslims was rich -- we discussed Quakers, Mennonites, mentoring, theology. Our Muslim host affirmed that we "owe each other love, because we all worship the same God."

Tomorrow David, Wally, and I will go to Tehran for two nights-- to meet people within the Red Crescent Society there, Armenian Christians, and to worship with the English speaking Christian church that meets on Thursday night. On Saturday, we will begin Farsi lessons with our tutor, in our apartment.

Our emails (via yahoo) seem to be "bouncing back." Be patient with us and we'll hope to get things straightened out. Andrew, Josh, Abi and Alex -- we will plan to call you on Friday or Saturday.

Happy in Holland

It is Saturday night here in Den Haag, the last of our five nights with Kusse cousins for this trip. Tomorrow night we catch a plan to Tehran and then ride on to Qom, our new home for the next three years. We should arrive in Tehran about 2am on Monday, the 12th, if things are on schedule.

This has been a lovely week. Our Monday night/Tuesday morning flight to Amsterdam was full of secondary students from Liverpool. We were blessed with good energy, good laughter and a good tail wind that got us into Schipol Airport an hour early. It was such fun to see our family members again-- as ever, the children have really grown and the one year old we saw and hugged for the very first time.

On Wednesday we went to Den Haag, to the crowded, coloroful, odoriforous central market. Dozens of fresh fish lay in beds of ice like a piscine hallelujah chorus.
Fresh fruits and vegis from all over the world were offered, and plenty of free samples, in order to become experientially convinced of sweetness and succulence. A full 2/3 of those shopping were in hijab-- Muslims from Morocco and Turkey. The spire of a brand new mosque was a short distance from the market.

On Thursday it snowed. Not just a few flakes but a wet, soppy, windy inverted rice bowl coming down in blinding white. We went to Delft and took a stroll through one of my favorite cities on earth. We had good strong coffee and apple cake and warmed our cold hands. Rounding a corner later, we caught three police officers lobbing snowballs at each other.

On Friday we celebrated cousin Ellen's 35th birthday and lots of family members calldc znd came by to visit. The simple love of family bonds ... more coffee, more laughing and story telling, more joyful wishes.

Tonight we have just returned from two hours of conversation at a neighbor's home,
Turkish-Dutch people and one Moroccan-Dutch man. They graciously invited us in (more wonderful tea and delectable treats) to talk about Muslim-Christian relations.
Conversation was open and warm and loving. We shared our many dreams for the new year-- that each person personally search for God, that we (Christians and Muslims) learn to understand each other, that there be peace between the US and Iran, that each person look at him/herself very earnestly and work to correct their own deficiences, not others, that People of the Book learn to cooperate while practicing their own faiths.

One of our new friends ended with a "joke" that goes something like this:
A man was walking on the streets of New York City and saw a pit bull attacking a little girl. He immediately ran to the child's aid and killed the dog, thereby saving her life. A journalist ran up and said, "How wonderful that a fellow New Yorker intervened to save a child." The man said, "I'm not from New York." "How wonderful, then," said the reporter, that a fellow American risked personal harm to save a little girl." "Actually, I''m from Pakistan," said the man. The next day the newspaper read "Pakistani Terrorist Kills American Dog."

David and I left our time together (3 Christians and 5 Muslims) longing for more conversation and friendship together. I asked our little group if they thought that on the Day of Judgment, God will be disappointed that "People of the Book" -- Jews, Christians and Muslims -- do not love and appreciate each other. "Disappointed? No," said one young Muslim man. "I think God will really be angry with us all."

Off to Amsterdam

Here in Lancaster County, PA there is a lacey covering of snow and ice over trees and turf. I went to Wal-Mart with two friends, driving into the parking lot right behind an Amish horse and buggy. The horse's respirations were brightly visible in the brisk air. I was impressed that the horses had their own set apart stalls - roofed and ribbed with strong timbers. (This has raised my regard for Wal Mart just a tad). Today (Saturday) our visas for Iran have arrived -- a good thing since our flight to Amsterdam leaves on Monday morning. And this afternoon two friends showed me how to don a full chador and keep mostly covered while extricating a hand or two needed for shopping and carrying. It has been a fruitful two weeks.

David and I have officially completed our two weeks of orientation here at MCC headquarters in Akron, PA. What a lovely space it is for training, learning, sharing, worshiping. We were part of a group of 27 "orientees" heading to cities in the US and Canada, as well as to Haiti, Bolivia, Kenya, Mozambique, Cambodia and of course, Iran. As near as I can tell, we ranged in age from 24-65. Friday we "internationals" were lovingly commisioned, prayed over and sent forward to serve the Lord. The buildings seem too quiet with most people gone to catch flights around the world.

For 10 hours today, we-- along with our four predecessors in the Muslim-Christian Exchange in Qom (2000-2006), and our MCC supervisor, Ed, have been around a table, eating, drinking coffee, describing and debriefing Iran. We have heard stories (funny, serious, encouraging and sad), read maps, heard a brief description of our new apartment, the rigors of learning Farsi and Arabic, the fun of Persian poetry, and Iranian hospitality.

I have, however, had odd cultural withdrawal symptoms. Into my rolling duffle have gone travel Scrabble and Yahtzee games. I went to Barnes and Noble and bought a DVD with a whole year's worth of "Law and Order" on it. I have squirreled away some murder mysteries for late night reading. I plan to load up on coffee in the Netherlands to go with the Cuban coffee pot (our little cafeterra). David is his normal self, though, and showing no aberrations.

These two weeks have been a good space to reflect on core identity as a Christians....as people who know Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. Several things have lodged in my heart: first, that we can trust wholeheartedy any door that God opens in our lives and invites us to walk through; second, the Gospel's call to risky, open, transforming love can only be lived out day to day as a praxis, not as an abstract philosophical principle to which we assent; and third, to be a "test plot" for the Kingdom of God (to use Clarence Jordan's agricultural metaphor) is a good definition for any new mission in life-- we plant with love and faith and wait to see what God will cause to grow.

So, here we are, bags re-packed, hearts full, spirits ready. On Monday morning (very early) we will be enroute to the Philadelphia airport and to Amsterdam, then to my Kusse cousins' home near Delft for the week. Until then, Godspeed!